


A Case of You

by vilix



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Ignis Scientia, Blood, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Fuck Bahamut, Graphic depictions of violent nightmares, Hand-wavy excuse as to why Noctis is still alive, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of not really but still be careful, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, No Plot/Plotless, Not Episode Ignis Verse 2 Compliant, Oblivious Ignis Scientia, Pining Ignis Scientia, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-World of Ruin (Final Fantasy XV), Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed, Sorry guys, This is just a series of vignettes and me waxing poetic about the two of them, also, so many nightmares really guys, this is unapologetic bahamut hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 04:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30033057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilix/pseuds/vilix
Summary: Ignis has spent nearly his whole life resigning himself to never having what he truly wants. After the coming of the Dawn, he's certain that his chance is lost forever. But when the possibility of happiness is presented to him on a silver platter, will he be brave enough to reach out and take it?
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	A Case of You

**Author's Note:**

> SO. OKAY. This started out as a way for me to vent all my stupid feelings about this game that have been haunting me for the past four and a half years but uhhh.... it kind of got out of hand? Like 20k out of hand. I know that the fandom has been slowly dying for a while but I'm still balls deep in it and IgNoct still occupies my every waking moment. They just make me so SAD. So I wrote this monster. I also made a playlist that I listened to while writing this thing, and a few of the songs served as direct inspiration for certain parts. You can listen to it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7hemAgdWNBbKjBjdkWaj5v?si=Hs8Zhr-sTjCqw6C-A-awsw) if you'd like!
> 
> Title is from Joni Mitchell's song of the same name, which also served as the original inspiration for this whole thing.

Ignis doesn’t thank the gods when he feels the Dawn, even as his skin warms and the star rises over the horizon, bathing the ruins of Insomnia in light for the first time in a decade. Instead, he thinks of Noctis, and selfishly, that his world will stay dark, so what difference does it make? Ignis is not a selfish man, but in that moment, he desperately wishes for Noctis to be by his side again, damn the Light.

_What a waste_ , he thinks, of the blood spilt. _What a waste of life, and how dare the gods._

Noctis was only a boy of twenty when Regis’ sword pierced his chest, if you think about it. Those ten years he spent in the crystal may have been in preparation for him to face Ardyn, but they’re no replacement for ten years of life lived.

“It’s beautiful.” he hears Prompto say next to him, no doubt staring at the rising sun. His voice sounds empty.

Ignis can’t bring himself to care about the rising Dawn, not when his heart is back in that throne room.

“We ought to collect him.” He says with a broken sigh as he turns and begins climbing the Citadel stairs. He hears Prompto and Gladio’s feet on the concrete as they follow him.

It feels like it takes years for them to reach the throne room. With each step his feet grow heavier. For the first time, he’s grateful to the Kings for taking his eyes – he’s not sure he’d survive the scene he’s about to be confronted with otherwise. While he wishes that the sight of Noctis’ unconscious face while Altissia crumbled around them wasn’t the last he’d seen of his prince, he’d take that over seeing his body slumped in the throne from which he should have ruled.

Gladio steps in front of him to open the heavy throne room doors, and as the long-unused hinges creak in protest, Ignis tries to take a deep, steadying breath. He feels the lump that’s been stuck in his throat since Noctis had told them to walk tall grow and tears prick at his remaining eye. He tries to conjure an image of Noct’s face from ten years ago: smiling, young, _alive._

The trio take shaky breaths seemingly in sync, and together they stride into the throne room. Prompto places a hand on the center of Ignis’ back in a ghost of the way he used to guide him when he first lost his sight. He takes it for the silent reassurance that it is. Even though he’s walking toward his worst nightmare, he’s not alone. This is just as hard for the other two. They’ve all lost something precious today.

If it felt like it took years to reach the throne room, then reaching the dais feels like it takes centuries. By the time they reach the top, tears are freely streaming down Ignis’ face. He does nothing to try and stem them or wipe them away. As they come to a stop on the stone floor, he hears a sharp intake of breath. He braces himself for a scream, perhaps a sob, something to confirm what he so desperately doesn’t want to believe. Instead, he hears two words in a voice he never thought he’d hear again except for in his dreams.

“Hey, guys.”

\--

Surely, he’s gone mad. His wishful thinking is making him hear things that aren’t there and he’s going to be forever haunted by the specter of Noct’s voice in his ears.

As if the gods haven’t been cruel enough already.

His breath catches in his throat and he shakes his head. Impossible. He’s dead. The gods decreed it. Ignis felt the sun on his skin himself. Noctis is dead. Noctis is _dead_ and they came to this gods-forsaken place to collect his body.

“Holy shit.” And that’s Gladio’s voice, but the words don’t make sense. They don’t sound horrified. They don’t sound grief-stricken. They sound reverent and relieved and breathless.

“No way.” Prompto. His voice carries a tone of disbelief and hope.

“What? What’s going—"

Before Ignis can get the rest of the question out, suddenly he’s being grabbed bodily and tugged into a bone-crushing embrace with one, two, _three_ other people. He feels tears on his skin that aren’t his own and finally hears those sobs, but they don’t sound mournful. They sound exuberant. Happy tears.

“Took you guys long enough.” And there’s that voice again. Ignis can feel a line of sturdy warmth against his side but he still won’t let himself believe it. This is too much like so many dreams he’s had in the past ten years. The only thing keeping him from dismissing the moment entirely is that in his dreams, he’s never without his sight.

“N-Noct?” At any other time Ignis would be embarrassed by the crack in his voice, but as things are, he has other things to worry about. He’s still bracing for Gladio or Prompto to tell him that he’s hearing things. He has a feeling he’s going to continue bracing for that for a very long time.

“Yeah, Specs.” He hears the words right next to his ear, meaning the chest pressed to his left side… It’s still unbelievable. Ignis can’t believe that he would ever get to keep this, to keep _him_.

He begins to fall to his knees and the rest of them lower to the floor with him, keeping him from collapsing outright. He turns to his left and buries his face in the neck he finds there. He can feel scruff against his temple and a heartbeat where his nose is pressed to warm skin. He untangles his arms from the other two and wraps them wholly around Noctis, clinging as if to a lifeline. Distantly, he registers the sound of hitching sobs and wrenching, shallow breaths. Through the cacophony in his mind of _he’s alive, he’s alive, **he’s alive**_ , he thinks that the voice in those sobs sounds an awful lot like his own.

There are arms around his back and they tense impossibly tighter, the hands rubbing up and down the line of his spine. The scruff presses closer and he feels the tip of a nose nuzzle into the space behind his ear.

“It’s okay, Specs. I’m right here.” Noctis’ breath whispers against his skin and flutters his hair. It does sound so impossibly like him, even ten years removed. Ignis could never forget the sound of his voice.

“You’re dead. I felt the sun.” He did. He _did._ Prompto even remarked on it.

“Don’t feel dead.” Noctis laughs gently, and isn’t it just like him to joke at a time like this?

Ignis buries his face even deeper into Noctis’ neck, heedless of the fact that he can probably feel his salty tears on his skin.

“No. You don’t.”

\--

They stay there on the floor of the dais for a while, wrapped up in each other. Eventually it’s Gladio who gets up first, citing his sore, aging knees.

“Not as young as I used to be, boys.” He grumbles as he stands and stretches. No one comments on his red-rimmed eyes.

“Hey, if you’re old, that makes me old!” Prompto whines, not quite ready to give up his spot on Noct’s left. Ignis is still curled into his right side, throat sore and nose running. The cries have stopped but he’s still left stunned and sniffling. He’s still expecting to wake up. Somewhere between his breakdown and now, Noctis has threaded their hands together. He squeezes. Noct squeezes back.

\--

They’re on the way to Hammerhead and the sun is beating down on them. They pass the old checkpoint heading into Insomnia and the desert rolls past them. The familiar calls of sabertusks and anaks can be heard in the distance and they all bask in the sounds of life.

The car isn’t the Regalia, but she’ll do. It could almost be ten years ago if it weren’t for Ignis in the back seat. His hand is still tangled with Noctis’ and they’re huddled close together in the back of the car.

As soon as he noticed they were holding hands, he was loathe to let go. He fully intends to savor this contact as long as he is able. He’s also not above taking advantage of the situation to lean his head on Noctis’ shoulder. His heart is still raw and aching and the blessed feeling of Noct’s skin against his own is a balm on his soul. He feels an inch away from breaking down again and he doesn’t know how to handle it. Ignis is usually a very composed person, but Noctis was always good at destroying his composure entirely, for better or worse.

They pull into the parking lot of Hammerhead and Ignis is in a daze the whole while as they get out of the car and make contact with Cindy, Iris, and Talcott. To be truthful, he doesn’t remember much of it. He remembers the sounds of crying and shouting and a surprised “Oof!” from Noctis as someone collided with his chest at a dead sprint. He remembers him laughing and most likely hugging the person back. He remembers that Noct didn’t let go of his hand.

\--

By now it’s dark again, and Ignis can tell he’s not the only one who’s half afraid that the sun won’t come back in the morning. Having both the light and Noctis back feels like too much, too good to be true. He could feel selfish for reveling in it, but he doesn’t feel bad for it in the slightest. The gods owe him this, owe _Noct_ this. Bahamut owes Noctis ten years unlived. He owes him a life. Noctis being here is the best revenge on Bahamut that Ignis can think of, and he will put everything he has and is into making sure Noctis leads the happiest life that he is able to, whatever that entails.

He’s aware of his own aching love for his king – the love that kept him going for ten years, even when he wanted to give up. His love has haunted him all his life, but he knows that his place is behind Noct, not beside him, and he’s content with that.

He is.

It hurts too much to imagine more when he knows he can never have it, and though he doesn’t feel selfish for having Noctis back, he feels selfish for desiring anything more than that. He has what he’s wanted so desperately for the past decade, and he’s not about to ask Noctis to love him when he has an entire other life to live. He deserves to love who he pleases and to have a long, happy life with them. That person was never meant to be Ignis. Ignis has been fortunate enough to watch Noctis grow from a scared, traumatized child to a selfish, lazy, sometimes petulant teenager, and finally into a fierce, loyal, fearless king. He considers it his greatest privilege, and he dare not ask for more.

The four of them have packed into the old caravan that still sits in the parking lot of Takka’s Pit Stop. It feels unreal to have them all back here, in the first place they spent the night in a real bed after leaving Insomnia all those years ago. Ignis is rooting around in the kitchenette for something for them to eat, and he can hear the other three shuffling about and bickering over who gets the big bed in back and who has to take the couches. It’s a heartbreakingly familiar scene, and Ignis feels tears prick at his eyes for yet another time that day.

In the end, the only thing he can find is some cup noodles that hopefully haven’t gone off. Gladio wins out, it seems.

“Noct, can you come here a moment?” And it’s such a novelty to be able to call for him. Ignis is sure it’ll never wear off.

“Coming,” he responds. Ignis hears him climb the metal stairs into the caravan. “Cup noodle, huh? Gladio’ll be happy.”

“Unfortunately, it was all I could find. I know it’s no mother and child rice bowl, but it’ll have to do. Help me carry them out?” Ignis picks up two of the cups and makes to go outside, but is stopped by a hand on his chest.

“You remembered?” Noctis’ voice sounds small, inquisitive.

“Remembered?” Ignis asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That that’s one of my favorites.” Noct supplies.

His face softens. “I remember everything about you, Highness.” There’s perhaps too much emotion in Ignis’ voice when he says it, but he chooses to ignore it. He hopes that Noctis does too.

There’s a small intake of breath and the hand on his chest falls away. Ignis passes Noct and heads outside, choosing to end the moment before uncomfortable questions can be asked.

“Oh, hell yeah! Cup noodle!” He hears Gladio’s voice as he reaches the bottom of the steps. He smiles and hears Noctis following him to the table. He tries not to think too hard about what his face must have looked like when he told him what he did inside, much less about what Noct’s must have.

He’s content.

He is.

\--

They fight over the shower before turning in; some things really never change. Noctis ends up getting the big bed, of course. It’s the least he should get after dying to save the world. The question remains as to whom he’s to share it with – or at least, Ignis thought so. Gladio and Prompto have silently taken the couches, their earlier bickering seemingly forgotten. That leaves Ignis. To be alone. In a bed. With Noctis. It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed, sure, but it’s the first time they’ll be sharing a bed after having been in such intimate contact for so long. Ignis is still starved for that contact, and after so many years without Noctis, he’s not sure he can trust himself not to cling in his sleep. Shiva help him.

They’re laying together in the dark, and even without his sight, Ignis can tell that Noct isn’t sleeping. After spending so long sleeping right next to him in a tent, he’d become intimately familiar with how Noctis sounds when he’s asleep. He hears his breathing next to him, deep and even, but not as slow as when he slumbers.

Ignis stares unseeingly at the ceiling of the caravan, the day’s events finally catching up to him. Once again, his emotions threaten to overwhelm him, and he fights back his desire to cry, to turn on his side and gather Noctis close to his chest.

“How?” He asks, quiet so as not to wake the others in the next room.

Noctis knows exactly what he means.

“Bahamut gave me a choice. He said I was still needed here, that my work as the Chosen wasn’t done. Lucis still needs a leader, after all, and without me it wouldn’t have one. He said I could either stay there with dad and Luna, or I could come back and continue to serve him. It was an easy choice, but it seems like he’s not content unless I’m doing things for him.”

A moment of silence passes. If Ignis were a more devout man, he’d think that Bahamut was being merciful, perhaps that he even felt bad for what he’d done to Noctis. As it stands now, he can’t help but think that this is the least Bahamut could do, the cold bastard.

“I’m still scared.” He hears a whisper in the dark.

“Of?” He whispers back.

“That I won’t wake up. That today’s all I get.”

Ignis’ heart clenches painfully in his chest. He doesn’t tell Noctis that he’s afraid of that, too, terrified that he’ll wake in the morning to an empty bed, or worse, a cold body. Instead, he listens to Noct’s breathing; a simple reminder that he’s here, that he’s alive. He reaches out and takes Noct’s hand again, holding it tight.

“You’ll wake up, Noct. Bahamut wouldn’t be so cruel.” He hopes he’s right.

\--

Noctis is still there when Ignis wakes. He knows because there’s a very real, very warm, breathing weight on his chest. He ducks his head down and his nose is met with long, soft hair that still smells of sweat and blood under the scent of cheap shampoo. It’s a smell that’s probably so deeply ingrained in all of them that it’ll take a while for it to go away.

It occurs to Ignis as he lay there that for the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t have anything to fight to the death for. He supposes that the process of rebuilding will take fighting of a different kind, but his days of fighting daemons and immortal beings are over. It’s a relief beyond words. The past ten years have not been kind, and he could cry with how happy he is that they’re over and he’s here, with Noct.

On top of him, Noctis snuffles in his sleep and digs his face further into Ignis’ chest. Ignis really shouldn’t let this continue. He should wake Noctis and go prepare breakfast. Instead, he smiles and wraps his arms around Noct’s back, pulling him ever so slightly closer. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift back to sleep, telling himself that he’s doing this to save Noct the embarrassment. Yes, that’s it. That’s all this is.

\--

The next time Ignis wakes, he’s on his side. He can still feel Noct’s face pressed to his chest and their legs are tangled together. This time, however, he can tell that Noct is awake. He doesn’t pull away though, unwilling to give this up just yet. Instead, he squeezes his arms around Noctis and buries his face in the top of his hair. Against his chest, he more feels than hears Noct let out an amused puff of breath.

“Miss me?” Noctis asks, and his voice is a perfectly low morning rasp. Ignis could listen to it forever.

“Dearly.” He replies. He’s long past the follies of youth that would tell him that this was inappropriate, that it wasn’t his place. He knows that this is something he can’t have, not in any of the ways that count, but he can still show Noctis that he’s loved. “More than you can know, Noctis.”

“Missed you too, Specs,” Ignis revels in the old nickname, that little piece of familiarity. “I’m so sorry.” Noctis says after a few moments of silence. He can hear a slight strain in Noct’s voice, like he’s trying to speak through a lump in his throat.

“Whatever for?” Ignis can’t think of a single thing that Noctis has to be sorry for, especially in regards to him. He’s happier than he’s been in a decade at this very moment, with this miracle here in his arms.

The face against his chest tilts up and he feels delicate fingertips brush the skin around his ruined eye.

“For what happened in Altissia. You gave up your sight for me – you almost _died_ for me – and I didn’t even say anything. And I was so terrible to you afterwards. I don’t blame Gladio for how he reacted.” Noct’s voice is growing thicker and Ignis can’t bear the sound of it.

“I’d do it a million times over, Highness. I didn’t do it so that you’d owe me or praise me or offer me special treatment. I… I did it because I wanted to. Desperately. I would have done anything to save you in that moment. My sight was a small price to pay for your life.”

“You knew it could have killed you.”

“I did.”

“And you did it anyway.”

“I did. I knew the Kings would ask for something. My life was something I was willing to give.” He hears a sharp inhale of breath and feels Noct bury his face back into his chest.

“And then you had the audacity to think we should leave you behind.”

“I believed I’d outlived my purpose. I’d done what I had set out to do: I had saved you. I didn’t want to hold you back.” It was true. Ignis had truly believed at the time that he was of no use without his sight. He was so downtrodden by his world crumbling around him that he was ready to be let go. He had served his purpose, and he didn’t want to be a liability. He was always ready to make sacrifices for Noctis.

“You’re an idiot.” Noct sniffles.

“Perhaps.” A beat of silence passes between them. “Do you know the last thing I saw?”

“What was it?” Comes the muffled reply.

“You. The last thing I saw was you.”

\--

In the weeks following the return of the Dawn, Ignis still feels as if he’s about to wake up to the World of Ruin any day now. Having Noctis so close at hand at all hours of the day is something he’s still not over, and the times when they are separated feel as if they stretch on for eternities. Ignis has forced himself to acclimate to those small eternities though, and does his best to quell the fear that rises in him every time Noctis leaves the room, telling him he won’t come back.

The rage he still feels toward the gods is an entirely different story, however. Every time he hears Noctis complain about his bad knee, or reminisce about their road trip as if it weren’t an entire decade in the past, or sound confused at something he hadn’t been around to experience, the fire in his chest is stoked. Ten years stolen, with a life that shouldn’t have been taken in the first place given back in return. Bahamut is lucky he’s not on Eos, for if he was, there’d be little to stop Ignis from soundly ensuring that he followed Ifrit into the realm of the damned, forever barred from the gates of heaven. He knows it won’t do to dwell, and that letting his rage fester is doing both himself and the others no favors, but it’s hard to help when he knows that Noctis still fears not waking up in the morning.

They ended up sharing the bed in the back of the caravan until they were able to post up in a still-standing portion of the Citadel from which they now run the rebuilding efforts. Now, Ignis thinks his bed terribly empty and cold. He’s not sleeping well at night anymore and he can never truly relax until he hears Noctis’ voice in the morning. How he treasures mornings these days, with the warmth of the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. There are small bits of time before the day starts when he and Noctis can eat breakfast together and simply enjoy each other’s company.

Now, he’s in his majesty’s rooms preparing breakfast. Prompto had joked about hiring the palace chefs back, and Ignis had blithely pretended to be offended at the idea.

“Mmm, smells good, Specs.” Noct’s voice comes from the hallway leading to his bedroom proper, and for a moment Ignis can imagine it’s fifteen years ago again; he sees Noctis with his hair mussed, shirt half rucked up as he scratches at his stomach, eyes barely open yet, up to get ready for school. A smile tugs at his face as he imagines himself asking if Noct’s homework is finished yet.

“Quiche Lorraine with spring onion and chanterelles, croissants with butter and ulwaat berry jam, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Holy shit, really?” Noctis asks.

“No. Fried birdbeast eggs on toast. The orange juice is real, though.” Ignis smiles.

“You ass.” Noctis laughs as he makes his way over to the kitchen counter. Ignis feels his body heat as he leans into his personal space and looks over the spread. “Simple is better, though. I’d feel bad eating such a nice breakfast when there are so many going without, even if you did make it.”

Ignis is painfully charmed by Noct’s selflessness. He’s grown into such a good man and it fills Ignis with no small amount of pride.

“You deserve a nice breakfast. I’d make you that quiche if I’d the ingredients.” Ignis admits.

“You spoil me.” Noctis says as he makes himself and Ignis a plate.

“It’s in my job description.”

“Yeah, Gladio might disagree with you on that one.”

They walk over to the table and when Noctis tucks in, he makes a truly salacious noise that makes Ignis’ stomach drop.

“Damn, Iggy. Your food only ever gets better.” Noctis groans.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Ignis chides, unable to take the compliment when it’s spoken in such a tone.

Noctis laughs and Ignis yearns. Yes, mornings are his favorite. They might make him ache for a simpler time, but it’s a sweet ache, one he’s mostly able to ignore as he makes conversation with Noctis across the breakfast table. How lucky he is to have this. The coming day will no doubt be busy, but for now, this moment exists only for the two of them.

\--

Sometimes, Ignis wants to let himself hope. Those sometimes are happening more and more as of late, after Noct’s hands linger on his back, or his arms rest on his shoulders as he peers over them at whatever Ignis is doing at the time. There’s a certain tonality in his voice when he speaks to him that Ignis doesn’t hear when he speaks to Gladio or Prompto or any one of the many people they make contact with every day. He sounds fond. Almost… tender. Nevertheless, the hope never fully blossoms in Ignis’ chest. He can’t afford it, not with his glass cannon heart; fiercely protective, powerful to a fault, but fragile in Noct’s graceful hands. Ignis likes to think he’s a man of few vices, but this vice is enough to topple him completely.

He could never possess Noctis, even if he wanted to. He once wielded the power of Kings; he knows what greatness thrums in Noctis’ veins and shimmers under his skin. He’s felt it. Any one man who can wield such tremendous power all the time is beyond Ignis’ grasp.

It’s not that he thinks he isn’t good enough for Noctis. He knows that he must have some merit, otherwise he wouldn’t have been kept around for so long. He just also knows that Noctis probably still sees him as a mother hen, a guardian. It’s really his own fault for falling so wholly and hopelessly in love with his charge, and now that he’s king, he has more important things to worry about. Namely, rebuilding his kingdom. Still, Ignis knows his place. He takes pride in his station and treasures it dearly. So, he’ll stand by Noctis and do whatever is needed of him. After all, Ignis lives to serve.

\--

It’s the middle of the night when Ignis bolts upright in bed. He thinks he hears a scream but he can’t be sure if it was a holdover from the dream or if it came from his own mouth. The soreness in his throat implies the latter.

He’d been back there, in Altissia. As Leviathan lay waste to the city, Ignis desperately tried to claw his way across crumbling stone to Noctis and Lunafreya. He was soaked through to the bone and freezing cold, his vision speckled with the water that clung to his glasses. Even so, he could see Noct’s body, unmoving, lying there next to Lunafreya, not twenty feet from the rushing water. Above him stood Ardyn in all his iniquity, poised like a great cat ready to pounce. Through his blurred vision, Ignis could see the predatory look in Ardyn’s eyes as he leered down at Noctis. A great cat, indeed.

Ignis’ sorry crawl was interrupted with a creak of metal as a heavy boot was harshly lowered onto the center of his back and the barrel of a gun was pressed to the back of his head. Pinned to the stone beneath him, he struggled to breathe, much less move, as he was forced to watch Ardyn twirl his weapon in his hand with a wicked grin on his face. The coward, doing this while Noctis was unconscious; though Ignis already knew that he was less than a man.

Ardyn turned that grin to Ignis and they locked eyes. The sickening smile spread wider, black tar seeping from Ardyn’s eyes and mouth, and as the blade was plunged into the center of Noct’s chest, Ignis could just make out two words being mouthed to him by his prince’s killer.

_Your fault._

The echoes of his scream bounce around the spartan room as Ignis tries to calm his breathing. His ragged, harsh breaths won’t stop coming too quickly as Ignis finds himself in the throes of panic. He can still see it: Noctis, helpless, killed by a terrible perversion of man. He’s been having the same nightmare for over a decade now, and though he should be used to it by now, it still affects him the same as it did the first time. He’s too far gone in his hysteria to register the sound of his bedroom door opening and he remains unaware until he feels the bed sink next to him and hands land on his shoulders.

“Ignis!” And that voice, so familiar and precious. “Ignis, what’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

His breath stutters in his chest for a moment as tears begin to well in his remaining eye, and without the weight of hands on him he would fear that he’s hearing things, that he would fly apart entirely.

“Noct?” His voice is strained and low. He feels and sounds like he’s swallowed razor blades.

“Yeah, Specs. I’m right here. Are you okay?” The hands start rubbing a soothing pattern up and down his arms, from shoulder to elbow and back.

“I-I’m okay,” he takes a deep breath and wipes at the tears on his face. “I’m fine. I just…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. He just what? He just has a recurring nightmare in which his oldest and dearest friend is murdered in front of him and he’s helpless to do anything but watch? He just loses the love of his life every night in his dreams?

“Why are you here?” He asks instead of finishing the sentence.

“… You were screaming my name.” Noctis’ voice is quiet and openly concerned.

“I’m sorry to have woken you.”

“Ignis, no. If you’re screaming my name, I’m going to come running. I don’t care about being woken up.” Noctis insists.

“First time hearing that.” Ignis tries to joke.

“Iggy.”

“Really, Noct. I’m okay.”

“You’re crying.”

Damn. He tries to once again wipe the tears from his face, but before he can, his hands are gathered into smaller, warm ones.

“Was it a nightmare?”

“I—”

“What happened in it?”

“… He killed you. He always kills you.” Ignis hears Noct take a deep sigh before the hands move up from his arms and to his back. He’s gathered into a firm and comforting hug and he buries his face in Noctis’ neck, breathing in the warm scent of him. He still smells like sleep.

“I’m right here, Iggy. I’m not going anywhere.” Noctis promises. “What do you need?”

_Stay,_ his heart begs.

It’s too much to ask. Too selfish. He can’t.

“Nothing, Noct,” his mouth says instead. “Go back to bed.”

Noctis hesitates, but eventually he leaves him be. He parts with a final tight squeeze of his arms around Ignis and a whisper of “G’night, Specs” against his ear.

“Goodnight, Noct.”

Ignis lays back down on his side and stares blankly at his bedroom wall. It’s always hard to get back to sleep after that particular nightmare, and tonight proves no different. He closes his eyes, but no sleep comes.

\--

Over time, Ignis had grown used to the everyday grind of survival. During the World of Ruin, he’d been forced to adapt to a constant life or death struggle, and he was left with very little time for much else. Now, he sits in his office at the Citadel with a braille report on the latest census sitting on his desk in front of him. Population numbers are depressingly low.

After the Dawn, he still doesn’t have much time for himself, but he certainly does spend less time on his feet. He’s fighting the pull of sleep at the backs of his eyes, struggling to maintain focus on his work, when he hears a quiet knock on his office door before it’s pushed open.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Noctis says as he enters the room.

“It is where I spend most of my time these days.”

“I was wondering if you could do me favor.”

“What is it that you need, Noct?”

Noctis’ footsteps approach his desk and the old mahogany creaks as he sits on the corner. There’s a pause.

“… You know, this is a beautiful desk; an antique. It’s a miracle it survived. My great-grandfather’s advisor helped run the country from behind this desk.” Noctis says as his fingers trace the edge of the wood. “It’s one of a kind. They don’t make them like this anymore.” Ignis doesn’t see the tender look on Noct’s face and the way he looks directly into Ignis’ eyes as he says it. “Do you remember hiding from Cor under it after we broke that vase when we were kids?”

Ignis chuckles. “I do.”

“I’m glad it’s still here. It’s familiar. So much is different now; my old rooms are gone. My dad’s are, too. The throne room still has that gaping hole in the ceiling. But this desk is still here. Something tells me that this thing will outlive us all.”

Ignis isn’t a fool. He knows what Noctis means; he likes to say he’s never been good with words, but Ignis is still utterly charmed every time he hides behind them because he’s too nervous to come out and say what he really wants to.

“I’m sure it will.” He says with a gentle smile on his face. “Now, I believe you had a request of me?”

“Yeah, I do. Take the rest of the day off.”

“Pardon me?” Ignis tilts his head in question.

“Spend the evening with me. I feel like we only get to see each other during official business or when—” Noctis cuts himself off, not wanting to mention Ignis’ nightmares that have awoken him on more than one occasion by now. “I just… want to spend some time with you.”

For a moment, Ignis is too stunned to speak. He wasn’t aware that Noctis felt this way, that he apparently missed him. He’s felt it too; everyone has been so concerned with the rebuilding efforts lately that unfortunately, his personal time with Noctis has grown scarce.

He sets aside his work, honestly relieved to have the excuse to stop. Somehow though, his bout of tiredness has abated.

“Lead the way.”

Noctis leads them back to his rooms where they both divest themselves of their shoes and outer layers. There’s a heavy _thunk_ on the floor as Ignis removes his Kingsglaive’s boots and a rustle of thick, expensive fabric as he settles his long jacket over the back of a chair. Next to him, he hears the quiet _clink_ of coins and chains as Noctis hangs his raiment by the door.

“What was it that you had in mind for tonight?” He inquires as they step further into the apartment.

“Nothing, really. I figured we could just, y’know, hang out?” Ignis smiles at the youth he still hears in Noctis’ words. He sounds so much like he did ten years ago, the only change being the deeper timber of his voice.

“A capital idea.” He replies.

They make their way to the living room and settle on the couch. Ignis hears a shuffling sound to his left as Noctis apparently sorts through a stack of something.

“We don’t have cable or internet right now, but I figured we could watch some movies. I managed to find an old DVD player sitting around and there was a TV in here when I moved in. How do you feel about a musical?”

“Since I won’t be able to appreciate the cinematography, I think a musical would be best.”

“Oh shit, Ignis. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—” Noct begins to panic.

“It’s quite alright, Highness. A movie sounds divine.” In all honesty, it does. Any sort of mindless relaxation sounds infinitely better than continuing to slog through reports in his office.

“Oh. Okay, good.” Noctis sounds relieved as he puts the DVD into the player and then settles back onto the couch next to Ignis. Ignis can feel the body heat radiating off of him and the proximity of the dent in the couch tells him how close he really is. He senses Noctis lay his arm across the back of the couch and it takes all of his willpower not to lean into the open space at Noct’s side.

One movie soon turns into two, and eventually they’ve spent hours on Noctis’ couch watching old musicals, and Ignis has been tortured by the line of Noct’s body heat next to him the whole while. As time passes, he feels Noctis gradually edge closer and closer until he can feel their knees touching. Ignis relishes in this simple pleasure, with a movie playing and Noctis here next to him, just being. This is something he hasn’t had in a very long time, and he’s hard-pressed to think of a way he would rather spend his evening. This, here, is everything to him. Even so, Noct’s closeness is a sweet torture. Surely, he doesn’t know what he’s doing to Ignis, and Ignis is ashamed of himself for feeling such things in the first place.

As the night wears on, Ignis eventually falls asleep, his head falling onto Noctis’ shoulder. Noctis smiles at him and leans in to kiss the top of his head, not feeling guilty in the slightest at this small indulgence. Gently, he lays Ignis down fully onto the couch, lifting his feet onto the cushions as well. He takes the blanket draped over the back of the couch and covers Ignis with it so that he doesn’t get cold.

Before turning the TV off, he takes a moment to admire Ignis’ face in the low light it gives off. He’s handsome as ever, his scars only adding to his now rugged appeal. The years may not have been kind to any of them, but they aged Ignis like fine wine.

“Goodnight, Specs.” He whispers, and leans over and gives him another ghost of a kiss across his forehead before turning off the lights and retiring to his own bed.

\--

_Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine  
You taste so bitter and so sweet.  
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling  
And still I'd be on my feet  
I would still be on my feet_

Noctis is so much more than a miracle. The King of Light, the Chosen One, hand-picked by the gods to destroy an ancient evil and save the world. All of that pales in comparison to hearing him putz around his apartment, to hearing him mutter to himself under his breath, to hearing him breathe in the space next to Ignis. When he’s faced with Noctis just existing, he becomes more and less devout all at once. After all, a man such as this could only exist by some divine intervention. Yet at the same time, Noctis has vastly outgrown his status with the gods. He’s so much more than the Chosen, than a king, that even the gods couldn’t have predicted what he’d become. Ignis worships this man, and he thinks that after all that Noctis has done for the world, anyone who doesn’t is a fool.

When he was a young man and had just learned of Noct’s fate, he was angry beyond measure. His rage could have razed heaven to the ground. But when he saw Noct’s face when he smiled, slept, stuffed his cheeks too full with food, Ignis was spellbound. Noct’s face made him believe in a loving god.

He is duty-bound to Noctis, and he wears that bond like a ring on his finger. In that way, he’s sworn to him, ‘til death do they part. Or perhaps not. Death has already tried to part them, and even then, it could not sever them from each other.

Every time Ignis hears his king laugh, he is grateful. He is grateful for the divine twist of fate that has allowed Noctis to come back to him, even as much as he thinks he shouldn’t have to be. He simply cannot be faced with Noctis alive and not want to weep with his gratitude, so great that it cannot be contained within his body. His tears have started coming easier with Noct’s return, and now his eyes cannot help but water when he thinks too much about his current circumstances, too overwrought with so many emotions that he’s feeling all at once. Noctis. _Alive._ He’s here, within reach. Ignis can touch him, and how sweet a privilege that is.

But, Noctis is still human. He still has faults and flaws and he still doesn’t clean up after himself, but to Ignis, he is divine.

Ignis worships in quiet ways. Every “ _Highness_ ” is a prayer. Every sacrifice is in his god’s name. Every time he kneels before the throne, he supplicates himself. During the darkness, every daemon slain was a “ _come back_ ”. Every person saved was an “ _I miss you_ ”. What he wouldn’t do for Noctis. He would pull the heavens to Eos, pluck the stars themselves from the sky.

During the darkness, he carried a picture of Noctis with him, always. An old gift from Prompto, it was one of his most treasured possessions, second only to the skull pendant that Noctis had given to him what seems like forever ago now.

During the darkness, Ignis was a soldier in a holy war. His crusade was righteous, but what would be his noble heart was tainted. Though he also served others during that time, he served Noctis first and foremost. In what was supposed to be a fight for the world, he chose instead to honor his king. He knows it was selfish, but he could not have done it any other way, could not have made it through those lonely days and nights that blurred together without that purpose. It was the end of the world, so what did his loyalties matter?

When he lay down to sleep at night, he would take out that photo of Noctis and caress its frayed corners, holding it close to his chest. Prompto told him it was a picture he had taken of Noctis laughing in the back of the Regalia with the top down. It was an image that Ignis held close to his heart, selfishly hoarding it away from the world. Prompto was the only one who knew about it.

There are nights from that time that he’d rather forget. There are things he did that he is not proud of. In the early days, he and the others were staying in a motel room that he ended up trashing out of pure rage. He cried and screamed and threw things at the wall. Prompto and Gladio hadn’t known what to do, having never seen him in such a state before. Ignis had demanded to be left alone, and he curled up in one of the ruined beds and cried for a long while. He lost track of how long he spent like that, gripped by grief. After he cried himself to numbness, he’d gotten up and straightened the room as best he could. When the others returned, it was as if the incident had never happened, and they never spoke of it again. There were a great many things that went unsaid between the three of them. Too many.

Later, when he was alone, he spent many cold nights wrapped as tight as he could be in his old sleeping bag, pretending he could hear the soft sleeping breaths of three others surrounding him. He pretended to hear the humming of a haven’s magic outside. He pretended he needed to wake up early to prepare breakfast the next morning.

Thinking of the past hurts almost too much to bear now. He’s endlessly grateful for the passage of time and the fact that those long, lonely years are behind him. He’d survived, yes, but it’s only now that he’s beginning to truly feel alive again. Before, his grief had hollowed him, left him empty with no soul inside. He’s still relearning what it means to be a person, to have trivial wants and to have greater concerns than just surviving.

Every time he hears Noctis laugh, he regains a bit of his humanity. Every time a friendly arm is thrown over his shoulder, he remembers what it is to be alive.

\--

In the back of his mind, Ignis still braces for Gladio and Prompto to tell him he’s hearing things when he hears Noctis’ voice. It still seems too good to be true, after all this time, to have him back here. All his life, he prepared for the day Noctis ascended the throne and became King. All his life, his greatest wish was to see Noctis succeed, and now that he’s done just that and so much more, Ignis is so full of pride that he feels it will consume him entirely, that it will expand so much in his chest that the breath will be pushed from his lungs and he’ll suffocate from the weight of it. He’s okay with that. He’s been ready to die for Noctis since he was a child.

Tonight, in a way, he does.

Sometimes his nightmares aren’t as simple as watching Noctis slain in front of him. Sometimes, they center on an entirely different bane of his existence. Tonight, he faces Bahamut in the space outside reality, the righteous fury in his veins running hot through him, and he can feel it boiling just beneath the surface of his skin. The left side of his face is ablaze with magic fire, and the Ring of the Lucii is a hot brand on his finger.

“Give him _back_! Please!” He screams, staring with a bone-deep hatred into the god’s unyielding face. His eyes show no emotion, seemingly unbothered by the life he’s taking, by the lives he’s ruined in the process. Although, why should a god, who’s overseen the deaths of billions, be bothered by the death of only one? He doesn’t seem to feel anything at all about his blight on Noctis’ life.

“And why should I?” Ignis doesn’t hear Bahamut with his ears, but rather feels the god’s voice everywhere, reverberating painfully inside his skull.

“He defeated the Accursed! He did what you wanted! Why does he have to die?!” He can feel his throat growing hoarse and sore from his screaming, can taste blood on the back of his tongue.

“Mortal blood must be spilled. A life must be taken tonight.”

“ _Then take mine!_ ”

Ignis wakes in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in bed. This nightmare is an old hurt, one he’s familiar with. When he first learned that Noctis was to die, he had a similar nightmare every night for a week straight. His anger toward the gods was immeasurable. He damned them in his thoughts night and day; every time he saw Noctis smile, every time he laughed, his fury grew. _How dare they,_ he would think. _How dare they take this from him._ Noctis was selfish sometimes, yes. He was spoiled and sheltered and sometimes lazy and uncooperative. He refused to eat his vegetables and he rarely cleaned up after himself. He was the best thing that had ever happened to Ignis, and he always would be. He was the steward of his heart and though he may not have always been careful with it, it didn’t change how Ignis felt.

Taking a deep sigh, Ignis swings his legs over the side of the bed and slides his feet into his slippers. He needs to take a walk. He sleepily stumbles out of his rooms and to the hallway, taking a left and making his way to the elevators. Taking the elevator to the top floor of the secondary residential tower, he makes his way to a familiar destination: the observatory. He could no longer see the stars, no, but this place still held a great deal of sentimental value to him. This was where he and Noctis would sneak to at night as children to gaze up at the starry sky and match them to the book of constellations that they both pored over during their spare time. Simply being there should be a comfort enough to calm his haggard nerves.

The hollow echo of his slippers on the floor of the observatory apparently alerts whomever it is who was already here that they have a guest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Noct asks from across the room. Ignis carefully picks his way over to him and sits next to him on the cold stone floor. The observatory is in a state of half-restoration, with an assortment of plants scattered about the room. It was a pet project of Noct’s, one that not many people knew about. Once he’s sat down next to him, Noctis opens the blanket he has draped around him to lay one side over Ignis’ shoulders as well.

“I’m afraid not.”

“… Did you have another nightmare?”

Ignis’ deep sigh and subsequent silence is answer enough to his question. Noctis scoots a little closer to him and rests his head on Ignis’ shoulder, Ignis wrapping an arm around Noct’s back in turn.

“I’m sorry.” Noctis whispers.

“It’s not your fault, Highness.” And it wasn’t. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Bahamut’s.

“Still sorry.”

“What about you? Why are you awake at this hour?” Ignis hedges.

“You’re not the only one who gets nightmares.” Noctis answers, voice sounding low and small. Ignis hums curiously and turns his head, pressing his nose into Noct’s hair, taking a deep breath in. “It’s always the same,” he answers Ignis’ unspoken question. “My dad’s sword goes through my chest and I’m pinned to the throne like a bug on a corkboard. I can’t move or breathe and it _hurts_ and I’m bleeding out but I don’t die. I just sit there scrambling at the blade and it’s cutting my hands open. I always look up and see Ardyn and he’s there at the base of the throne room steps and he’s just _smiling_ at me. That black shit is all over his face and he looks so happy, like he’s the one keeping me alive just long enough for him to show me that I lost. Then everything stops and I die and it was all for nothing. I’m gone and there’s nothing I can do because he’s still _there_ and no matter what I say or do, Bahamut won’t let me go back to try and fix it. He just says that I failed and now I have to watch from the afterlife as Ardyn destroys the rest of everything as my penance. He kills you guys first and Bahamut makes me watch. It’s always all my fault.”

By the end of his recounting, Ignis can feel tears seep through his shirt from where Noctis has turned his face into his shoulder. Ignis brings his arms up and wraps them firmly around Noctis’ shoulders, pulling him in close. How he hates Ardyn for what he’s done to Noctis – done to all of them. He caused so much needless suffering, and for what?

“It’s alright, Noctis. You’re safe; we all are. He’s gone.” Ignis knows his words mean little as he states the obvious, but he keeps going, bringing a hand up to card through Noct’s hair. “You did so well, Noctis. You defeated him and he’s never coming back. You saved us all.”

Noctis sniffs. “Thanks, Iggy.”

“Of course, Highness,” a pause. “Though, I supposed I’d better start calling you Majesty.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I’ve waited my whole life to call you that; it’s a privilege that brings me great joy.”

“Sap.” Noct jokes, but Ignis can still hear the emotion in his voice.

“It’s true.” Ignis doesn’t know which statement he’s agreeing with, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter. They’re both true.

They stay there for a couple more hours, wrapped up in the blanket together and looking up at the stars. It’s a comfort that Ignis hasn’t experienced since those nights in the caravan, and again he’s loathe to let it go.

“I always loved it here. I remember coming up here with you in the middle of the night with that cosmogony book you had and trying to find all the constellations. You were always better at it than I was.” Noctis says with his head tilted up to look through the glass ceiling.

“They are precious memories. I was thinking of the exact same thing when I decided to make my way here earlier. This place is a great comfort to me. I’m glad it still stands.”

“Me too. I’d rather have this place intact than my old rooms.”

“I suppose we got lucky, then.” Ignis feels Noctis rest his chin on his shoulder.

“Yeah, we sure did.” He looks back up to the sky. “I wish you could see the stars tonight, Ignis. They’re beautiful. There’s less light pollution now than there used to be.”

“Describe them to me?”

“There’s so many of them. I’ve only ever seen this many stars out in the country. Remember our first night in Leide, out at Circlawe Haven? It’s like that. You can see the arm of the galaxy stretching across the sky and it looks like a sparkling, cloudy river. You can see Titan’s constellation perfectly this time of year to the east, just below the north star. It’s brighter than I’ve ever seen it. They all look like pinholes poked in black velvet. It’s gorgeous.” Ignis smiles at the breathy wonder he hears in Noct’s voice. He sounds so much like the bright-eyed child he used to be rather than a man of thirty. It brings Ignis great joy that he was able to retain such a simple love as one for the stars after all he’s been through.

“Thank you, Noct. They sound beautiful.”

“You know, the north star was always my favorite.” Noct says after a moment of silence.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“It was just always there – constant. I didn’t have a lot of constants growing up. Everything was always changing; I couldn’t even really count on my dad to be there all the time. Then there was the marilith attack, and Tenebrae and Luna. When I came home, no one treated me the same. It was like I was some broken thing that people had to walk on eggshells around. Everyone was scared of hurting me or scaring me. But when we’d sneak out at night to the observatory and look up at the stars, it was always right there in the same place. No matter what. Then I was a teenager and things got even more flipped on their head, and when we weren’t getting along, it was still there. Even if my other constant was gone, I could still look up at the north star and feel safe.”

“You came up here alone to stargaze?” Ignis asks, heart breaking a little at the thought.

“Not here, but at my apartment. I’d go out on the balcony and look up at the sky. It reminded me of you. It reminded me of when things were simpler, when the two of us could just be ourselves without the weight of duty on both our shoulders. I missed you then, and looking up at the north star made me miss you more, but also less at the same time. I felt like I could be closer to what we used to be when I looked at it, and it let me pretend that things were the same as they were back then. I didn’t have to worry so much about being the prince. When I was looking at the stars, I could just be Noct.”

“What about now?”

“Now, the past hurts too much to think about for long,” Noctis says, and Ignis can hear the wistfulness in his voice. “Now, both of my constants are back, and I have new ones. That’s all I need… It’s just crazy how even after all this time, the stars are still the same.” He says as he leans further into Ignis’ side.

“It really could be that first night out in Leide.” There’s an unknowable quality to Noctis’ voice when he says it, like he can’t decide if he wants it to be the truth or not. Ignis doesn’t know either. Those times may have been simpler, yes – happier, maybe. But there’s a certain solace in knowing that it’s past, that now they can focus on living as people and not as prophecies.

Eventually, Noctis lets out a yawn that tells Ignis they had both better head back to bed. Noctis is reluctant to move, claiming he’s too comfortable where he is, and can’t he just sleep here on the floor?

“Your back will protest in the morning and I will not allow you to sleep on the cold floor, Noct.”

“Mmn, carry me?” Noctis whines.

“I’m afraid we’re past the days of me being able to carry you all the way back to your rooms.” Ignis stands and gathers the blanket in his arms, smiling at the small whine of “Cold” that Noctis says under his breath.

“Fine, have it your way.”

They make their way back to Noctis’ rooms first, and as he opens the door, Noct turns to Ignis and gives him a gentle smile.

“Thanks for tonight, Ignis. It made me feel a lot better.”

“The feeling is mutual, Majesty.” Ignis smiles back.

“Hey, um…” Noctis hesitates. “Would you like to… stay? Here? With me tonight?”

Ignis is taken aback and unsure of how to respond. He’d spent the night at Noct’s before, but it was always spontaneous. Never before had Noctis so blatantly invited him to stay.

“I–I…” He stutters out stupidly.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just wondering. Forget I said anything.” Noct rushes out and Ignis can practically see the embarrassed, disappointed look on his face.

“Forgive me, Noctis. I simply wasn’t expecting it. I’d love to stay the night.” Ignis is sure his face is practically on fire with how red it feels.

“Oh, thank the Six. Come on in, then.” And Noctis sounds so relieved that Ignis can’t help but smile.

The two of them enter the apartment, and as Noctis walks down the hallway and to his bedroom, Ignis stops at the linen closet to procure an extra pillow to go with the blanket he already carries.

“What are you doing?” Noctis asks.

“Ah, I’m getting a pillow so I can set up on the couch?” Ignis sounds unsure of himself as he says it, uncertain as to why Noctis is asking.

“Oh. Um, well, when I asked if you wanted to stay the night, I meant, y’know, in my room?” Noctis sounds embarrassed again. “Like, um, when we were in the caravan?” He sounds anxious, and Ignis can practically see him biting at his bottom lip with nerves, a bad habit that he never grew out of.

Of course, Noctis must miss the comfort of the caravan. It’s true that they’d both slept soundly when sharing a bed, and it makes sense that Noctis would want that back. That’s all this is; he wants a good night’s sleep. Ignis puts the pillow back in the closet.

“Of course, Noctis. It would be my pleasure.” Ignis says with a slight tilt of his head.

“Good. C’mon.” Noctis sounds relieved as he leads the way into his bedroom and Ignis follows behind him.

They slide into bed together and Noctis takes up his now-familiar position at Ignis’ side with his head pillowed on his chest. He takes in a deep, relaxed sigh and says sleepily, “I missed this.”

“As did I, Majesty.” Ignis admits.

A moment of silence passes before Noctis speaks again.

“What was your nightmare about?” He asks, and then is quick to amend, “If you want to tell me. You don’t have to.”

“It’s quite alright, Noct. It’s a recurring one that I have about Bahamut. I beg him for your life, but he won’t relent unless another mortal dies. I volunteer my own life and he takes it.” He can feel Noctis curl further into him at his side.

“Self-sacrificial idiot.” Noctis says quietly.

“I’m afraid we’ve already come to agree on that one.” Ignis says back. “It’s true that I would die for you, Noctis.”

“I know. You’ve tried.” He sounds sad when he says it. “You know, it’s kind of terrifying having someone who would die for you, especially when it’s someone you l—care about.”

“I’m sorry to frighten you.” Ignis chooses to ignore the almost slip of the tongue.

“Of course, you’d apologize.” Noct huffs.

“Such is my nature.”

“Go to sleep, Specs.” Noctis says through a yawn.

“As you wish, Majesty.” And for the first time in weeks, Ignis does not dream at all.

\--

“I want to go fishing.” Noctis declares a couple of weeks later after a Council meeting. Councilman Gallus had been particularly onerous to deal with that day, pushing back against nearly every measure either Noctis or Ignis set forth. Why a man would be so vehemently opposed to irrigation reform, Ignis has no idea.

“A splendid idea, Noct,” Ignis replies as he gathers his papers and slides them into a leather portfolio. “When would you like to set out?”

“When’s our next day off?” Noctis asks, and Ignis isn’t surprised that it isn’t even a question as to whether he’s going with Noct, though it still pleases him.

Ignis mentally goes through his and Noct’s schedules. “I’m afraid it’s not for another week, but we both have the whole day off next Sunday.”

“It’s a date, then.” Noctis says, and Ignis doesn’t dare let himself question the tone in which he says it.

\--

Next Sunday comes and Noctis and Ignis set out for their long drive outside the Crown City. Ignis had asked if Noctis wanted to include Prompto and Gladio in their little expedition, but unfortunately their schedules did not permit. There were also several Glaives who attempted to invite themselves along on the trip in order to keep Noctis safe, but he rebuffed their offers by asking them if they really thought he was incapable of handling a few hundelegs on his own. Needless to say, they had dropped the subject rather quickly.

Noct had chosen a little-known fishing hole near the Daurell Caverns. According to him, he chose it due to its secluded nature. It was out of the way in southern Duscae and they’d had to leave well before sunrise in order to get there at a reasonable hour. Ignis had been tremendously surprised to be awoken by Noct himself knocking at his door a full hour before his alarm was to go off.

“We’re not scheduled to set off for another hour and a half, Noct.” He had reminded him groggily.

“I know, but I wanted to make sure I got in as much time as possible, y’know?” Ignis had chuckled and followed Noct’s whims with minimal protest, as he so often did these days. It seemed he was growing soft in his old age.

They reach the fishing hole in the early morning, when the barest pink hues are beginning to stain the grey-blue sky. The air is crisp and cool and their surroundings are alive with the sounds of nature that has just begun to recover from the decade-long darkness. Ignis revels in the sounds of nature waking up around them; he hears chirping birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind, the croaking of frogs and the splashing of fish jumping from the spring to catch unlucky insects on the water’s surface. It nearly catches him off-guard, so used as he is to the suffocating silence brought about by the absence of the sun.

As Noct sets up his tackle at the end of the dock, Ignis takes off his shoes and rolls up his pants, letting his feet dip into the cool water. After he’s done setting up, Noctis does the same. They pass the rest of the morning like that, sitting next to each other on a dock that has seen better days at a small fishing hole in the middle of nowhere. It’s an achingly familiar scene, one that Ignis could confidently say that he had missed dearly. It would have only been made better by the other half of their little family being there with them.

After bringing in a haul of snakeheads and bass that he seems satisfied with, Noct sets his tackle aside and lets himself lean against Ignis’ side.

“I’ve missed this. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to just relax and fish… Over ten years now, I guess.” Ignis could hear the wistfulness in Noct’s voice as they both look out over the water together.

“I’ve missed it as well; more than I thought I would. During the darkness, whenever I would hear the sound of water lapping at a shoreline, I thought of you. Being near water helped me feel closer to you, in a way.” Ignis says as he lets his head rest on top of Noct’s.

“Thought about me a lot, huh?” Noctis teases, though Ignis thinks he hears a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“Always, Noct. I spent those ten years thinking of you every day, waiting eagerly for the day you would return to us. I fought for you. I fought for myself and others as well, of course, but you were always at the forefront of my mind. All I’ve ever done, I’ve done for you. Sometimes it felt as if I were merely serving a ghost, a memory, but you were my favorite ghost.” Perhaps that was too much to divulge at the moment, but there was no helping it now.

“… Oh,” Noctis says, and it’s a small, quiet thing. “I guess I never thought about what it was like for you. It must have been hard.”

“It was,” Ignis admits. “But every second of it was worth it if it means you get to live out the rest of your life.”

“All of it? Even…?” Noctis doesn’t say what they’re both thinking.

“Even losing my sight, Noct. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: There is not much in this world that I would not do for you, and my sight was a small price to pay.” And he means it, every word.

They stay silent for a while after that, letting the sounds of nature wash over them. Eventually, the sun reaches its peak and the heat of the day begins to really set in. It’s the middle of summer, after all, and Ignis can feel his clothes beginning to stick to him. He can hear his stomach growling as well.

“Hungry? Me too,” Noctis asks. “I’m guessing the Crow’s Nest isn’t open still.”

“No need for such greasy fare, your Majesty. I’ve something far better than that.” Ignis says as he dries his feet and puts his shoes back on. He returns to the car, fetching a picnic basket from the trunk.

“A picnic? You’ve outdone yourself, Iggy. Trying to wine and dine me, or something?” Noct asks and Ignis can hear the teasing tone in his voice. He blushes regardless.

“Nonsense; you still need to drive us back. I brought sparkling juice instead.” Ignis says back. Noctis snorts.

They sit across from each other on the dock while they eat their lunch, and Ignis lets himself enjoy the feeling of providing for Noctis again. There once was a time where he felt so utterly useless and was sure that he’d never get that feeling again which he had so taken for granted, sometimes even resented. Being able to have that back was something he wasn’t expecting to make him so happy.

“What are you smiling about?” Noct asks around a mouthful of finger sandwich.

“Just enjoying the moment. I missed cooking for you.”

“You cook for me every day, Specs.” Noct reminds him.

“And I look forward to it.”

“Really? It’s not a chore to you?” Noct sounds surprised.

“I enjoy cooking regardless, but there’s something special about being able to cook for those you care about.”

“I guess I never thought of it like that.”

“What was it that Prompto used to say? “Cooking is different when a girl does it for you”? I suppose it’s a bit like that; cooking is different when it’s for someone else. I suppose I’ve rather fallen into the role of caregiver, besides. It’s a role I’ve rather come to enjoy.”

“Come to enjoy?”

“Of course, there were times when I was younger where it was something of a thorn in my side, but I’ve grown to appreciate it over the years. I think I was fated to it, always putting others before myself.”

“That’s something we’ll have to work on; you deserve to be spoiled once in a while too, y’know?”

“Is that so?”

“It is.” Noctis promises, and when he says it, maybe Ignis can start to believe him.

\--

They don’t begin the drive back until the sun is beginning to set.

“I guess we should head out before the daemons – oh, wait. Never mind,” Noct chuckles, sounding stunned at the notion that daemons aren’t something they have to worry about anymore. “Still getting used to that, I guess.”

“It is a relief, not having to plan your night around such things.” Ignis says.

“No kidding.” Noct says lowly back.

“We probably ought to start making our way back, anyway. We’ve early starts tomorrow, and if I let you stay up too late, I won’t hear the end of it in the morning.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” and Noctis sounds every bit like he did at twenty, not wanting to remember his responsibilities. “Alright, you win. Let’s pack up.”

The drive back is peaceful, and once they make their way back into the city and reach the door to Noctis’ rooms, he turns to face Ignis.

“Thanks for today, Iggy. I really enjoyed it.” Ignis can hear the smile in his voice as Noctis takes one of Ignis’ hands in his, playing with his fingers.

“As did I, majesty. We’ll have to plan another excursion soon.”

“Yeah, we will. Goodnight, Specs.” He lets Ignis’ hand go and he instantly misses the warmth, wondering what it meant.

“Goodnight, Majesty.”

As Ignis is settling in for the night, he cannot help but ruminate on the day’s events. It felt so much like a date, but he does his best to dismiss the thought. Noctis had merely wanted to take a day off to relax, and what better way to do that than with his favorite pastime? He’d wanted to fish and spend time with Ignis, that’s all.

He continues to debate with himself as he crawls into bed, and when he lay down to sleep, he thinks of the way Noctis had held his hand when he agreed to another day out sometime in the future. He thinks of his comment on Ignis wining and dining him earlier in the day. Has he really been so obvious in his overtures toward Noctis? He simply can’t help it; Noctis brings out the romantic in him, and after a lifetime of looking after his liege, he’s so used to treating him tenderly that it’s something he does now without thinking. He can’t resolve to reign in his actions when it comes to him, as his devotion to Noctis is so integral to his person that anything else would seem grossly out of character. There’s nothing to be done about it, he supposes. He just has to hope that he doesn’t step out of line.

\--

_Go to him, stay with him if you can.  
But be prepared to bleed._

Even though he knows that Noctis is safe in his waking mind, his sleeping mind doesn’t seem so convinced. He’s woken by another nightmare that night, this one so violent that he wakes in tears, his waking scream echoing in his ears. He hears frantic footsteps approaching his door, and it flies open with a call of his name.

“Ignis!” There’s alarm in Noct’s voice as he moves quickly to Ignis’ side, hands hovering over him uncertainly before planting firmly on his shoulders. “Ignis, it’s okay. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

“You died.” Ignis chokes out.

“What?” Noctis sounds out of breath from racing to Ignis’ room still half-asleep. “Was it the same nightmare?”

Ignis takes a moment to catch his breath and collect himself as much as he can.

“No,” he swallows and shakes his head. “It was – it was that night. You were on the throne and I watched the Sword of the Father pierce your chest. It flayed you open. The other weapons of the Royal Armiger had already… There were so many. Why did there have to be so many? Why did they have to stab you so many times? It’s _cruel_. He’s so _cruel_ , the bastard. And I’m not even there to stop it—”

“Ignis, you’re not making any sense. Slow down. Start from the beginning.” Noctis interrupts. Ignis takes a deep breath.

“We’re in the throne room on that night. Well, you are. I don’t know if I’m there as well; it doesn’t feel like I am, but I can still see it all. You’re on the throne and the Kings’ spirits surround you. One by one, they all pierce your chest with their weapons, and when the last one – King Regis – when it’s his turn, he doesn’t even hesitate. He cuts you open like it’s nothing, like he’s not killing his own son. And there’s so much blood. It’s all over you and it’s dripping off the seat of the throne. There’s a puddle of it gathering on the floor, and you’re just slumped there, dying. It’s awful.” Ignis feels himself begin to choke up again as he recounts the nightmare, and he swallows painfully around the growing lump in his throat.

There’s a moment of terrible silence.

“… How did you know?” Noctis’ voice is quiet with shock, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

“… Know what?”

“What happened. H-How did you know how it happened?” The scared, broken sound of Noct’s voice is a deep hurt in Ignis’ chest.

“What are you saying?” He asks. He knows, but he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“That’s how I died. I know I said something about the last part before, but the rest of it… It’s how it happened near verbatim. How did you know?” He asks again.

“I didn’t. Not before tonight.” Ignis sniffs and wipes at his face.

“Then what…?”

“A last ‘fuck you’ from Bahamut, perhaps.” Ignis suggests with a dry, humorless laugh, and the moment is so fraught that Noctis can’t even take a moment to be surprised at the rare expletive.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says quietly. “… Do you want me to stay?”

“Please.” Ignis is so far past worrying about boundaries right now that he doesn’t even think twice. He needs Noctis here so he can make sure he’s safe. Alive.

“Alright. Scoot over.” Ignis does and Noct climbs into the bed beside him.

“I’m sorry.” Ignis apologizes.

“Don’t be stupid, Specs. You’re not a burden, or a chore, or whatever else your brain has you convinced of. I want to be here. I want to help.” Noctis says as he settles in against Ignis’ chest. Ignis wraps one arm tightly around Noct’s back, holding him close. “I’m just sorry this is such a regular occurrence for you.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing for it.”

“Is it better when I’m here?”

“… It is.” Ignis admits.

“Seems like there is something for it, then.” Noctis states, like it’s that easy.

“I can’t ask that of you, Noct. You have your own room, your own bed. That’s where you should be.” Ignis says even as he turns his head to bury his nose in Noctis’ hair. It doesn’t smell like blood anymore.

“Let me make my own decisions, Ig. I want to be here, if that’s what you want.” And he sounds so sure of himself that Ignis can brook no argument. Instead, he sighs and settles in.

“Always so stubborn.” He says to mask the swelling of his heart at Noct’s words.

“Someone has to look after you. Gods know you won’t do it yourself.” Noctis doesn’t sound angry when he says it. In fact, he sounds rather sad.

“Thank you for looking after me.” Ignis whispers, edging closer to sleep, comforted by the close warmth of Noctis at his side.

“Anytime.”

\--

Ignis can still sense Noctis’ relief every time he wakes up alive in the morning, and it stokes that nasty fire deep within his chest. Whoever thinks that Bahamut could be a loving god is a fool. How deep does Noctis’ trauma run that he expects the breath to be taken from his lungs while he sleeps? He is so much more than a servant to the gods, but Bahamut seems content with viewing him as livestock; stripped of his agency, just something to be raised with the sole purpose of being killed to serve the wishes of another. Noctis tries to tell him that this second chance has given him a new gratitude for his life, but Ignis knows him too well. He can hear the stress and fear in his voice when he says it, the little clues telling him that the constant ruminating over his own mortality is wearing on him.

It’s early the next morning when Noct wakes with a start, bolting upright from Ignis’ chest and startling him awake. Ignis hears him patting his own chest, as if looking for a wound. He sits up with him, taking one of Noctis’ hands in his own. Despite their best efforts, it seems that it wasn’t a peaceful night for either of them.

“I could kill him for what he’s done to you.”

“Don’t say that too loud, he might hear you.” Noct jokes, his breath still slowing.

“I’m being serious, Noctis. After what he’s taken from you, he deserves it. He would have you die for the sins of another. You were raised for slaughter. It’s sickening.” Ignis can’t help the venom in his voice, always unable to think of the Draconian without becoming incensed.

“It was only ten years, Ig.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be. You said yourself he’s only satisfied if you’re serving him. He was going to let you die; the only reason you’re still here is on his whim, and that terrifies me. What’s to stop him from taking you away again?” He says, taking Noctis’ hands in his. There are tears beginning to gather in the corner of Ignis’ eye, but he ignores them, scared as he is.

“… You said he wouldn’t be that cruel.” Noct’s voice is small, and Ignis knows he’s hurt him with his words, but he cannot help but voice his fears. He knows it was insensitive of him to say it, but these thoughts are constantly on his mind, threatening to boil over. Apparently, now is the time for them to do so.

“I hope he isn’t. If he is, then…” Ignis pauses, staring down at their joined hands. “I have not been a very pious man, Noctis. If he were to betray you like that, I would surely never enter the gates of heaven.”

“Ignis…”

“You don’t know the depth of my devotion to you, Noct. Not all of it. If he were to betray you and there was a way to bring you back again, to be rid of him entirely, I would do it. As it stands now, the most I can do is hope and serve you well. That will have to be enough.” He knows he’s still trying to convince himself of that, but he fears his tenacity in doing so is slipping. He cannot kid himself; he’s been foolish with his own heart his whole life. If he were a better advisor, he’d be able to quash these feelings entirely. He’d be able to divorce his work from his love. But he is but a man, and he cannot deny that he loves Noctis. Foolishly, selfishly, dearly. “I’m sorry about what I said; it was out of line. I should be comforting you, not making things worse.”

“It’s okay, Ig. You were just saying what we’re both thinking.” Noctis says quietly, leaning his head on Ignis’ shoulder.

“I know it still makes you angry, but you can’t let it consume you like this, Ignis,” Noct says after a few moments’ silence. “You’ll drive yourself insane, and how will you advise me, then?” He tries to joke.

“It’s hard,” Ignis chokes out. “Not being able to protect you from him wears heavy on my soul, Noctis. There were times when my anger was all I had left. There were times when it really _did_ consume me. I meant what I said when I told you that I have not been a pious man. I’m afraid I may have damned myself already.”

“I won’t let him banish you, Ignis.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“He owes me.” And it’s the first time that Ignis has heard Noctis’ voice sound so ominous and sure in its darkness in a long time. Maybe Ignis isn’t the only one nursing fury.

They both know there’s no going back to sleep for either of them, but still, they settle back down into the bed. There’s a crisp breeze coming in through the open window, still cool from the summer night, and cold blue light seeps into the room from between the curtains. Ignis feels Noctis huddle closer.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.” Noctis says.

“As if it’s a burden to have you here.” Ignis repeats Noct’s own words back to him, and he feels him smile against his chest. Ignis takes protecting him very seriously, and apparently now that includes protecting him from the dreams that plague him on bad nights. It’s another duty on a growing list that he is happy to undertake. The ways in which he serves his king may not always be conventional, but neither is their bond. He should be – and is – duty bound to Noctis, but his devotion runs so much deeper. They’ve already seen the end of the world together, have cultivated its delicate recovery together in their cupped hands, and if he had his way, they would be together even in death. If he had his way, he would mould them together into one being so that he may always keep him safe. He may be foolish with his own heart, and Noctis may not have always treated it gently, but still, it beats for him.

\--

Sleeping in the same bed becomes a habit after that night, much to Ignis’ chagrin. He fears he’s being an imposition, a bother, but whenever he tries to bring it up, Noctis soundly shuts him down with the insistence that it’s no trouble, that it’s something he wants. Eventually, Ignis gives in, not willing to start a row with his king over a simple sleeping arrangement. Still, he must admit, he hasn’t slept this well since the caravan.

It’s on a particular night after a rather grueling day of meetings that the two of them find themselves enjoying a glass of wine together before they settle in for the night. Ignis admits that his tolerance isn’t what it once was, but nonetheless he’s still able to enjoy a fine vintage. The late King’s wine cellar had somehow remained undisturbed in the interim between his death and the present, and the four of them made short work of pillaging it.

“You know, I never got the whole wine thing.” Noctis says after taking a sip from his glass and making a face.

“The ‘wine thing’?” Ignis asks.

“Yeah, like the ‘notes of cherry and oak’ and all that. It just tastes like sour grape juice to me. Prompto and I always just ended up mixing it with soda.”

“Noctis. Please tell me that you never mixed your father’s vintage with soda.” Ignis grouses, yet he can see in his mind’s eye a teenaged Noctis and Prompto sneaking wine into the prince’s apartment and tainting it with cola.

“Nah, I didn’t want to incur his wrath. We just had Gladio get us the cheap shit from the liquor store down the street.” Ignis nearly spits out his drink.

“You _what_?!”

“Did he not tell you about that? Oops.” Noctis snorts, laughing into his glass.

“He did not, but it suffices to say that I will be having words with him later.” Ignis promises with an affected crossness that he doesn’t actually feel. It’s not like there’s anything he can do about it now.

“Like you never participated in some illicit drinking. I remember you having some particularly nasty headaches when we were teenagers on more than one occasion.” Noctis teases.

“You’ve been driving me to drink since I was but a boy.”

“Aww, c’mon. That’s not true and we both know it.”

“It’s not, but the stress of the job did lead me to loosen my tie a few times over the years.” Ignis admits.

“I’m sorry. I know I was a pain in the ass growing up. Hopefully I’m better now though, right?” Noct sounds like he really is sorry, and the hopeful tone of his voice in his question hits something deep in Ignis’ chest. As if there was ever any doubt.

“You did prove a challenge at certain times, but I can’t blame you. You had a lot of weight on your shoulders. I assure you though, you do not present the same challenges in the present.” Ignis smiles.

“Oh, so I just present different ones, then. Is that it?”

“Nothing I’m not equipped to handle.” That may not be entirely true, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Can I tell you something?” Noctis asks.

“Always, Majesty.”

There’s a deep sigh and Ignis hears the soft _clink_ of Noct setting his wine glass on the coffee table.

“Part of the reason I was such a pain when we were teenagers was because I was scared you just saw me as your job. I thought that if I pushed you away, it wouldn’t hurt so much when I found out you felt that way for sure, ‘cause I didn’t see any other way that it could go. If I got you to admit that I was your job and nothing more, then it could just be… a clean break, I guess. I could stop wishing for something that wouldn’t happen because it wouldn’t even be a possibility anymore.” Ignis can tell that this is an old hurt for Noctis just by the tone of his voice. He sounds mournful and lost, like he’s back to being a teenager, so unsure of himself and his place in Ignis’ life.

“You were never just a job to me, Noctis. Truth be told, I was scared of that very thing… of how much you meant to me. I was so scared of breaking propriety that I tried to push you away as well. I was afraid that if it would ever come to light how much I actually cared for you, that you would be taken away from me entirely. To be honest, it scared me shitless,” Ignis admits. Perhaps he’s had a little too much wine. “If I kept things strictly professional, however, I could remain close to you. That’s all I wanted: to be able to be near you and help you become the great king I knew you could be. Of course, now I can see that those feelings were more a boon than anything else. They ensured I stayed completely devoted to you. I was only afraid that if I were to be caught out, I would be removed from my station under suspicion that I could not give sound, unbiased counsel, and that I would do something untoward.”

“Wow, Ig. Almost sounds like you were in love with me or something.” Noctis replies, the attempted joking tone in his voice falling flat.

Ignis doesn’t respond at first.

“I suppose I was.” _Shit._ He’s definitely had too much wine. Ignis doesn’t dare admit to Noctis that the feelings never went away. It’s better that they stay in the past where Noctis should believe them to be. It was probably where they belonged.

“… Oh.” Ignis is glad that he can’t see the look on Noctis’ face. He doesn’t wish to bear witness to his own humiliating rejection, over a decade removed as it may be.

“I believe I may have had too much to drink. I ought to go to bed.” Ignis begins to stand, but stops when he feels a hand on his.

“Ignis, no. We’re talking about this.” Noctis says sternly.

“I’d really rather not, Noctis. It was a long time ago.” Ignis tries to leave, but again is stalled by Noctis’ hand moving to his wrist and grasping tight.

“Ignis.”

He sits back down.

“What would you have me say, Majesty?” Ignis sighs.

“Cut the ‘Majesty’ shit, Ignis. I’m not letting you run away from this,” Noctis always was good at seeing right through Ignis and his attempts to deflect. His confidence in doing so has never wavered, and Ignis damns that in the moment. “This isn’t about what I would have you say, this is about what _you_ have to say.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Bullshit,” Noctis says, and he’s starting to sound angry now. “Are you still in love with me?” He asks, and Ignis isn’t able to place the quality of his voice. What does he want to hear?

“I’m going to bed.” Ignis begins to stand again, and this time Noctis stands with him.

“Ignis!” He pleads.

“Goodnight, Noct.” Ignis says with finality, and leaves Noctis’ rooms to return to his own apartment for the first time in weeks.

Once he’s back in the privacy of his own rooms, he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’s _not_ going to cry. That would be ridiculous, a grown man crying over being rejected. Six though, he cannot believe he let such a thing slip to Noctis. This was supposed to be a secret he would take to his grave. Noctis was never supposed to know. It wasn’t his place to be in love with Noctis, anyway, and surely, he’s ruined everything.

He tries to take a deep, steadying breath and slowly makes his way into his bathroom. He splashes cold water on his face and grips the edge of the sink until his knuckles turn white. _Stupid,_ he thinks. _How could I be so stupid?_

He continues to berate himself as he gets ready for bed, but when he goes to brush his teeth, he remembers that his toothbrush is still in Noct’s bathroom. _Curses._ There’s no way he’s going back there to retrieve it; how pathetic and embarrassing would that be? Instead, he goes into the kitchen and swishes some warm saltwater around his mouth, supposing that will have to suffice.

When he finally settles into bed, he’s still shaken by his accidental confession. Thirty years of friendship possibly ruined, all because he can’t hold his liquor. He feels painfully sober now though, and he wishes sorely for another glass of wine even though that’s what got him into this mess to begin with. It takes him some time to fall asleep, anxious as he is. When he finally does, it’s fitful and restless and he dreams of a time long ago, a Noctis from long ago, smiling and laughing in the back of a car with the top down.

\--

The next day is painfully awkward. Ignis refuses to let last night’s transgressions affect his work, but there is no mistaking the rift that has opened up between him and his liege.

“Yo, what gives?” Prompto asks as he unceremoniously barges into Ignis’ office late that afternoon.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Ignis replies, not pausing in his summarizing of a report on grain output from the new farms outside Lestallum.

“C’mon, Iggy. You totally know. You and Noct haven’t said a word to each other all day. It’s getting weird.” Prompto complains.

“Is that so?”

“Ignis! C’mon, man. What happened?” Prompto whines, at this point beginning to sound desperate.

Ignis heaves a deep sigh and pushes his papers aside.

“Very well. Last night, his Majesty and I indulged in a few glasses of wine after work. In my inebriated state, I said some things that I should not have, and it has… strained things.” Saying it in the cold light of day is like pulling teeth and it does little to soothe Ignis’ bruised ego.

“What, did you confess your undying love for him or something?” Prompto asks teasingly.

Ignis remains silent.

“Holy shit.”

“Prompto—”

“No way!” And why does Prompto have to sound so excited? “Man, it took you long enough! Wait. Why would that make things awkward, though?”

“You _knew_?!” Ignis nearly shouts. Has he really been that obvious all this time?

“Dude. We all know. It doesn’t take a genius like you to figure it out. You didn’t answer my question, though. Why would it make things awkward?”

“Six, this is so juvenile.” Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose. “Isn’t it obvious? I let it slip how I feel – well, how I used to, in any case. It’s highly inappropriate and I expect repercussions for my misdeed will be imminent.”

“’Repercussions for my misdeed will be imminent’,” Prompto says in a rather poor attempt at Ignis’ accent. “Gods, you’re so dramatic. And what are you talking about, how you used to feel? Am I crazy or did something change in the past fifteen years I’ve known you?”

“Nothing’s changed, Prompto. I simply didn’t disclose… the whole truth.”

“So, you admit it!” Prompto exclaims excitedly.

“Prompto, please.” Ignis can feel a tension headache sprouting behind his eyes.

“What did you tell him, then?”

“He asked if I was in love with him when we were teenagers, and in my addled state, I said yes.” Ignis says.

“And?” Prompto asks curiously.

“ _And,_ he asked if I was still in love with him.”

“So, what did you say?”

“… I left.” Ignis can admit now that he handled that poorly.

“You _left_?! What the hell, dude? No wonder he’s been so touchy all day!” Prompto says, exasperated.

“He’s been irritable?” Ignis asks, now concerned.

“Uh, yeah! He’s barely said two words to me all day, and when he did, he sounded all pissy. I asked him what was wrong and he just said,” and here he affects yet another dubious impression, this time of Noctis. “’I dunno, Prom. Why don’t you ask Specs?’. He’s been in such a shitty mood that even Gladio isn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole, and you know how much he likes to bug Noct and get under his skin when he’s annoyed.”

“Six. I’ve really loused up, haven’t I?” Ignis thinks that perhaps exile wouldn’t be so bad if it meant he didn’t have to deal with this.

“Yeah, no shit, dude.” Prompto sounds very long-suffering and like he can’t believe he’s been wrangled into fixing Ignis’ problems for him. As someone who’s been saddled with similar jobs before, Ignis empathizes.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him.” Ignis sighs and gets up from his desk. He attempts to steel himself for the coming conversation, much as he doesn’t want to.

“Thank the Six. I was _not_ looking forward to having to deal with this for much longer,” Prompto says, obviously relieved. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“… I appreciate the vote of confidence, Prompto.” As much as he thinks it’s a moot point, Ignis really is grateful for Prompto’s ever-present optimism. At least he can cling to that.

“No problemo, dude! See ya!” There’s a solid _thunk_ as Prompto leaves the room and the door falls shut behind him. Ignis collects his things and prepares to follow him out, but not before taking another deep breath to attempt to calm his shaking hands. He can do this.

\--

He can’t do this. After almost thirty years of loving Noctis from afar, he’d become so used to resigning himself to never having his feelings be requited that he never even considered any other option. Now that the possibility is presented to him, remote as he feels it may be, he’s terrified. He has no idea how to do this. The best he can do is lay out his feelings plainly and hope that he isn’t executed for them. As much as he hates to think it, he does have to admit that the thought that he won’t have to face Regis’ judgement in the wake of his impending confession is a comfort to him. As much as the man was like a father to him, he still didn’t want to see what he would be like when faced with such a revelation as Ignis being in love with his only son.

He knocks on the door to Noct’s office with hands that still haven’t stopped shaking. As he waits, he has visions of himself trudging back to his rooms to lick his wounds and likely pack his bags so he could live out the rest of his days alone in a cabin in the woods. He isn’t sure if he wants Noctis to let him down easily or not. The former is probably more likely, though knowing Noctis it would be clumsy. Nonetheless, he fears him trying to spare his feelings and sacrificing his own comfort in the process, only putting a further strain on things as Noctis grew to resent him. Perhaps he should just resign.

His spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a tired-sounding “Come in” from the other side of the thick wooden door and he straightens his spine before opening it.

“Oh. It’s you.” Ignis winces at Noct’s decidedly displeased tone.

“We need to talk.”

“You didn’t seem to want to do much of that last night.” Ignis can’t blame Noct for sounding bitter.

“Prompto talked some sense into me.”

“Did he now?” Noctis asks flatly.

“He did. I… I want to apologize for my behavior last night. I won’t blame it on my inebriation, but instead on my own cowardice. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right. I didn’t,” Ignis tries not to be hurt by how mad Noct is starting to sound. “Sit down, Specs.”

He sinks into one of the high-backed leather chairs that sits across from Noctis’ desk with his back ramrod straight.

“Gods, Specs. You can relax, this isn’t a disciplinary hearing.”

“Perhaps it ought to be.” Ignis mutters under his breath.

Noctis heaves a deep groan and Ignis can practically see him dragging his hands down his face.

“Alright. Let’s cut the shit. Why did you leave last night? Aside from the obvious?”

“I was scared.”

“Of?”

“Your rejection. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I crossed a line. For that, I am truly sorry.” Ignis bows his head.

“I said let’s cut the shit. You didn’t make me uncomfortable last night, Specs. You made me mad, sure, but you didn’t make me uncomfortable, so don’t apologize for that,” Ignis hears the sound of Noct shuffling papers out of the way and the rustle of fabric as he rests his elbows on his desk. “Also, you never answered my question.”

“Your question?”

“Are you still in love with me?”

There’s a moment of suffocating silence.

“I am.” Ignis’ voice is tiny and miserable-sounding as he prepares for his inevitable demise.

“Why do you sound so sad about it?” Noctis asks gently, his previous ire seemingly forgotten now that he’s learned the truth.

“You were never meant to know.”

“Why not?”

“It would only complicate things. I’m sorry, Noct. I tried so hard not to be in love with you, but you did make it rather difficult.” Ignis says almost regretfully.

“It doesn’t have to complicate things.” Ignis doesn’t dare to hope about what that might mean. Not yet.

“It did back then. There was no point in telling you, and then it was too late. Every day after you were drawn into the crystal, I regretted not telling you. I didn’t want you to go not knowing how deeply you were loved. But then when you came back, at the campsite, it seemed like the wrong time. I didn’t want to distract you and I thought once again that it was better that way. I had let you know that you were loved, and that I’d always stand by you. That was all that mattered. The extent of my feelings was something that I was resigned to keep to myself.”

“You didn’t think I deserved to know?” Noct asks, sounding hurt.

“It’s not that. It was that I didn’t believe I deserved to tell you.”

“Specs…” Noctis sounds so hurt by that idea that Ignis is thrown for a moment. They saw Ignis in two very different lights, apparently. “You deserved to tell me.”

There’s another moment of silence.

“If that’s all, your Majesty…” Ignis goes to stand, but once again is stopped by Noctis.

“Oh, no. I’m not letting you run away from this _again,_ ” Noctis says sternly. Ignis sits back down. “Why didn’t you tell me after… after I came back?”

“I still didn’t see it as my place. There is not a thing I wouldn’t do for you and I think I’ve proven that. That includes standing aside and letting you be happy, regardless of my own feelings. You deserve to choose whomever it is you want to love.”

“Then let me choose.”

“… What?” Ignis can’t believe what he’s hearing. Does he mean – no. No, of course not. It’s wishful thinking.

“You idiot. You seriously slept in the same bed as me for all those nights and thought I didn’t love you back?” Noct asks, sounding more exasperated than Ignis has heard him in recent memory and Ignis is struck dumb by the confession.

“I—”

“Ignis, c’mon. I know I’m not the best at emotions and stuff, but I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

“I didn’t dare let myself hope.”

“Why not?”

“It would make the truth hurt more. If I didn’t let myself hope, I could love you without consequence. Considering that you might feel the same for me felt too much like I was reading into things, and I knew it would only make your rejection that much more devastating. It felt like I was reaching beyond my place to hope, and I felt stupid for it. If I let myself believe that you didn’t feel the same, there was nothing to worry about.”

“We really have to work on your self-esteem.”

“Pardon?”

“Ignis, you really think you’re that undeserving?”

“I’m to serve you, Noctis. Nothing more.”

“If you’re only meant to serve me, then I think you’ve done a pretty piss-poor job of sticking to that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ignis. Seriously. You obviously care about me. You’ve gone so above and beyond what’s expected of an advisor, and I consider myself incredibly lucky to have you. Not everyone would willingly sacrifice what you have for their King.”

“Then they’re poor advisors.”

“Iggy! C’mon, work with me. Let me love you, too.” Noctis pleads.

“I—I don’t know how.”

“We can work on that.”

“I just can’t believe that you really feel that way, that you really want me.”

“I have for a while.” And Noct’s voice sounds so impossibly soft when he says it.

“… How long?”

“I’ve loved you since we were kids, Ig. I think the first time I really realized I was _in_ love with you was after that first fight when we were teenagers, though. After you left, I kinda broke down because I was realizing all these things at once. I was just starting to figure out that I was interested in men, and all of a sudden there was one specific man I was interested in, but I was sure that he hated me.”

“Noct…”

“Don’t even think of apologizing. That fight was both our faults, and you had no way of knowing about any of what happened afterwards.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“… How long for you?”

“My entire life, Noctis.” It’s an odd feeling for Ignis to finally be able to put words to it out loud, like flexing a muscle he didn’t know he had.

“Fuck, Specs. We’ve been really stupid, haven’t we?” Ignis hears the scraping of Noctis’ chair across the floor and his footsteps as he walks around to the front of his desk. He takes both of Ignis’ hands in his and they rest there between them.

“I suppose we have,” Ignis suddenly remembers a question that had once haunted him as a young man, when he was still learning what it meant to fear Noctis being taken away from him. “What about Lunafreya?”

“Y’know, I loved Luna. I really did. I was happy to marry her if it meant peace. But I loved her the same way I love Prompto and Gladio. She was family. There are worse things in this world than marrying one of your best friends.”

“And you say I’m the self-sacrificial one.”

“Marrying her wouldn’t have been such a huge sacrifice. I’d still get to have you guys in my life and it would’ve been more than worth it if the peace treaty had actually meant anything.”

“You’ve still sacrificed more than your share, Noct. You still died for the Dawn.”

“I guess you’re right, but I didn’t really have any control over that.”

“I suppose you didn’t. You handled your fate with such grace though, Noct. As much as I hated to witness it, you showed your true colors as a great king.” Ignis reaches up and cradles one of Noct’s cheeks in the warm palm of his hand. “You know Noct, all I’ve ever wanted for you is the opportunity for you to grow old and be happy.”

Noctis reaches up and traces the jagged edge of the scar over Ignis’ ruined eye. “I’d say you’ve done a pretty good job of making sure I get to.”

Noct leans forward and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes. This close, Ignis can smell the crisp cedar scent of his expensive cologne and the warm musk of his skin. He can feel the dry heat of their skin where they still hold each other’s faces in their hands. Noct tilts his head and suddenly Ignis can feel the whisper of their lips against each other. He turns his head to meet him and it’s everything he’s ever wanted but never dared to hope for. They stay like that for a moment, just kissing and basking in the warmth of each other. It’s a gentle, almost chaste thing, and it’s sweeter than any confection Ignis could ever dream up. He could die like this and be a happy man.

“If I have my way, I’ll make sure of it to the end,” he says as they part. “Forever, Noct.”

“Yeah. Forever.”

\--

_I remember that time you told me_

_You said, "Love is touching souls."_

_Surely you touched mine._

_'Cause part of you pours out of me_

_In these lines from time to time._

It’s later, after more talking and crying and kissing, that they find themselves leaning against each other in a tight embrace in the middle of Noctis’ living room. They’d moved their discussion to Noct’s rooms for the sake of privacy after it became abundantly clear that neither of them was going to get any more work done that day.

“Hmm,” Noctis hums, breaking the comfortable silence they had fallen into. “Dance with me.”

“There isn’t any music.”

“I can fix that.” Noctis walks over to the sizeable stereo sitting next to the TV and puts on a song that starts with an acoustic guitar accompanied by a woman’s voice.

“This isn’t to your usual taste.” Ignis remarks as Noctis steps back into his arms.

“I know, but I still like it. Besides, it fits the mood.” Noctis says, resting his head on Ignis’ chest.

“Asking me to dance is also a surprise,” Ignis says as they begin to sway together and slowly step in circles around the room. “You always hated attending events where you’d be required to dance. I remember it being particularly difficult to get you to go to galas, even after you outgrew your awkward phase.” Ignis smiles.

“Excuse you, I never had an awkward phase,” Ignis raises an eyebrow and Noctis blushes, knowing that it wasn’t true but still wanting to deny it. “It wasn’t the dancing I hated; it was the spectacle. I was never there as just a guest or even as a person. I was there for other people to dance with so they could brag about it later. I was an ornament. Besides, I could never dance with the one person I really wanted to.”

“Oh, is that so?” Ignis asks, his cheeks coloring.

“Yeah, something about propriety,” Noctis teases. “He probably would’ve totally showed me up, anyway.”

“Like this?” Ignis asks before securing his arms around Noct’s lower body and lifting him up, spinning him in a circle before letting him back down, where he smoothly moves his hands up to Noct’s lower back, lowering him into a graceful dip.

Noctis comes up out of the dip laughing, his cheeks red. “Yeah, something like that.”

They lose count of how many more songs they dance through, simply savoring the moment and their closeness. Ignis has never experienced anything like this before. His previous dalliances as a young man had never managed to manifest the same feelings as he held for Noctis, and on some level he knew they never would. During the decade-long darkness, he had other things to worry about, and any thoughts of romance were far from his mind. Besides, he imagines that trying to find a partner during that time would have felt too much like a lie, too much like he was trying to move on from something that had followed him for long enough to become a part of him. He may have felt as if he were serving a ghost, but he was also loving one.

“This is nice.” Noctis says sometime later, low and relaxed.

“It is.” Ignis bends his head down to place a kiss on the top of Noct’s head.

“I’m glad I finally got to find out what it’s like. Dancing with you. Being with you. I’d kind of just accepted never knowing. I thought there was no way you could feel the same. I was still afraid that on some level you still just thought of me as a job, that all you’d done for me was out of a sense of duty. I can see now that that’s kind of ridiculous, considering how much you’ve put yourself through for me, but I was still scared. And I knew that even if you did feel the same, you’d try to deny it or you’d say that we couldn’t do anything about it because of propriety and duty and blah, blah, blah.”

“Had me figured out that well, Majesty?”

“I know you, Iggy. You’re my oldest friend.” Noctis reminds him.

“… As much as I’d like to think I’d let myself be happy, I must agree with you. It simply wasn’t the right time, then. I’m afraid that any confessions that happened before you came back in the throne room would have only led to heartbreak for us both.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I came back then, huh?” Noctis asks.

“The best,” Ignis wraps his arms wholly around Noctis and squeezes, finally able to satisfy the part of his mind that was so scared of him leaving by holding him close in all the ways he’s ever wanted to. “I’m still sorry it took so long for me to say it. I was so angry with myself for waiting until that night to let you know how cared for you are. Even though I was resigned to keeping my romantic feelings to myself, it was still a disservice to you to not tell you I loved you earlier, even if it was just as a brother. You didn’t hear it when you needed to most, when you were scared and grieving and without a home, and for that I will never forgive myself. You needed someone to love you then, and you did not receive that. Not in words. The best I can do it say it now, so that you never forget it: I love you, Noctis. Deeply, sacrificially, eternally. I would rend heaven and Eos for you.”

“I knew you guys loved me, Ignis. I felt it, even if you didn’t say it. There was never a moment when I doubted the three of you. When Cid told us we were brothers, I felt that too. Whether that’s like family, like it is with Prompto and Gladio, or something else entirely, like it is with you, I know I was never alone. Even when it felt like I should feel alone, I still knew I could count on you guys. You’ve never let me down.”

He feels his eyes begin to sting as they continue to sway together, their dancing having devolved instead into a close embrace. Noct’s arms wrap tighter around him, hands reaching up the broad expanse of his back to rest on his shoulders. Ignis noses into Noct’s hair, soft and in need of a trim, and lets the first tear fall.

Noctis pulls back slightly. “You’re crying.”

“Happy tears, dear heart.”

“Promise?”

“I swear it.”

“Good,” Noctis drops a gentle kiss onto Ignis’ lips, and he leans into it, humming contentedly. “I love you too, Specs. I’m not good with words like you are, but I want you to know that I love you the same way. In all the ways.”

Ignis smiles. “It’s good to hear.”

He doesn’t confess to Noctis that this is something he fantasized about often during those years of darkness. Perhaps that will come another time, but for now it hurts too much to voice aloud, it feels too raw. He remembers swaying around his various hideouts alone, arms wrapped around himself in a facsimile of the embrace of another… of one specific other. When things seemed truly hopeless, he would imagine that Noct was there with him, that he could reach out and touch him. Music would play softly from his phone and he would dance with his favorite ghost, imagining his flesh and blood close to his own. Having the real thing here now still feels too good to be true, and being able to touch him in such a way feels dreamlike. Even so, it’s a dream that Ignis will guard with his whole being, with his very life, just as he always has.

Eventually the music ends, but neither of them move to do anything about it. Their stepping together gradually slows until they once again remain embracing in the middle of Noct’s living room floor, holding each other close with their faces buried in each other’s necks. This close, Ignis can feel Noct’s breath, his blessed breath, come across his skin in warm puffs. He can smell his hair and his skin and he can feel his heartbeat against his own. For the first time in his life, he can feel these things and not feel guilty about liking it. He can feel these things and know that it won’t be the last time. For the first time in his life, he can exist without the weight of duty and prophecy and unspoken love on his shoulders. Instead of suffering for his love, he can now bask in its warmth, letting it wash over him entirely. Being able to give into it feels so very much like coming home, and it brings him a peace he’s never felt before. This man before him is everything to him; his life’s work, his best friend, and his greatest love.

If soulmates really did exist, then Noctis was his from the start. He’d known it since he was a child, that on some level, they belonged to each other. Now, they can belong to each other in new ways, and Ignis still can’t quite believe that he’ll be able to experience them all. Now, they have all the time in the world, even if Ignis has to see to it himself.

_Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine  
You taste so bitter and so sweet.  
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling  
And still I'd be on my feet  
I would still be on my feet_

\--

Epilogue

Ignis truly never thought that he could be this lucky. He knows Noct in every way there is to know him. He knows his faults, in all their stained glory. He knows his fears and his desires and his ambitions. He knows that he talks in his sleep. He knows the way his breath feels on his skin. He knows his body, his soul. He knows every inch of him, has mapped him out himself with cartographer’s hands. He knows him blind, by touch alone. Noctis, to him, isn’t just the love of his life. He truly believes that their souls are wound together, braided into something deep and eternal; a rope strung sturdy enough to bear years of strain and hardship. A lifetime ago, that rope had burned Ignis’ hands, left them raw and stinging. Now, it ties him firmly to the dock, keeping him from floating off to sea. Ignis thinks that there are far better things he could let himself drown in.

They wake beside each other, as they do most days. Ignis is up first, and he rolls over and presses himself close to Noctis’ chest, wrapping his arms around him and nosing into his naked skin. He smells sweet, like honey and baking bread and sleep, and Ignis lets himself indulge in it. No longer does his bed seem empty and cold. Now, it’s a sanctuary for him, holding him and the man closest to his heart together in warm covers that make him feel safe. He stays like that for who knows how long, letting himself bask in his lover’s presence, absorb his body heat.

Ignis lets himself lose track of time like that, drifting in and out of sleep, but eventually Noctis is awake as well. Ignis hears a soft chuckle from above him and feels Noct’s hand lift to card through his hair.

“You’re clingy this morning.” And Noct’s voice is such a perfect, warm morning rasp that Ignis falls in love all over again.

“Hmm,” Ignis hums, not interested in trying to deny it. “How are you feeling, darling?”

Noctis makes a face and squirms in Ignis’ grasp. “Sore.”

“My apologies. Was I too rough last night?” Ignis asks as he smooths a hand down the soft skin of Noctis’ back, tracing the faded line of his scar.

“Nah, Specs. It’s a good kind of sore.” Noct drops a kiss onto the top of his head and moves to sit up, but Ignis only tightens his arms around him.

“Stay.” He nearly begs, pressing his face even closer to Noct’s chest.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?” Noctis jokes.

“Just this once.” He bargains.

“Alright. Just this once.”

They both know it’s a lie, that there will be many mornings where one of them convinces the other to have a lie-in. It’s a sweet lie though, one that they’re happy to tell. He presses a kiss to Noctis’ chest, right over his heart, and they lay there together as the star rises over the horizon outside. The Crown City wakes up around them, and they can hear people begin to fill the streets outside their window. Soon, there will be Citadel staff in the halls, and there will be meetings to attend and papers to sign. Soon, Ignis will have to get up and make breakfast and prepare them both for the day. But for now, they can stay in bed together as golden light begins to filter in between the curtains. Perhaps they’ll repeat last night’s events. Perhaps they’ll fall back asleep. That’s unimportant. What matters most is that they have the opportunity to find out. As far as Ignis is concerned, Bahamut can go to hell. He’s never taking this from him again.

Noctis lifts a hand to the side of Ignis’ face, gently tracing the edge of his scar. “You’re so handsome, Iggy.” He says, and while it’s something he’s heard a few times throughout his life, it’s not something Ignis ever thought he’d hear about himself again.

“A-Ah,” he stutters out. “I’m not too sure about that one, Majesty.”

“Why not?”

“I’m sure the scars did nothing to help my appearance.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve always been gorgeous, Specs. If anything, the scars add to it. They make you look all rugged and mysterious.” Ignis doesn’t respond, instead blushing and lowering his face back to Noct’s chest. “I’m being serious, you know. It’s a good look on you. I’d think you were handsome no matter what.”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s my job.”

After staying a while like that, Noctis leans over Ignis and grabs his Carbuncle statuette off the nightstand, where he’d turned its back on them the night before. After Ignis asked why he’d stopped kissing him, he told him what he was doing and Ignis had laughed.

“I don’t want him to see!” Noctis had cried, and Ignis could only put his hands on either side of his face and drag him in for another kiss, so full of love for this ridiculous man that he felt he may burst.

Noctis turns the Carbuncle over in his hand, tracing his finger along its worn edges. It’s seen so much of his life. More than Ignis, even. The little fox still sometimes visited him in his dreams, as it did on the night that he and Ignis got together. He recognized the warm, proud look that had been in its eyes as the same look he used to receive from his father.

“What’s wrong?” Ignis asks, lifting a hand to cradle Noct’s cheek.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Carbuncle. My dad. I think they’d both be happy for us.”

“I think they would.”

Ignis hears a soft noise as Noctis places the Carbuncle back on the nightstand. He wraps his arms back around Ignis and squeezes him tight.

“I could tell my dad was sorry that I was going to have to marry for politics. He was lucky enough to be able to marry for love, and I know he wanted the same for me, too.”

“Are you proposing?” Ignis asks jokingly.

Noctis traces a hand up the side of Ignis’ face and draws him in for a kiss.

“Hmm. Something like that.”

End


End file.
